Saying Goodbye Means
by Angie Constantine
Summary: This is post and after “21 Guns”, and is based mostly off the memories I guess, of Neela. And what might have been running through her mind at the time of all this. Please read and review, I really need it!


DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything connecting to ER or NBC. This and every copyright of the shows transcript belongs to NBC. I don't own Neela, I don't own Michael, I don't even own Pratt. So...erm, yeah.

A/N: This is post and after "21 Guns", and is based mostly off the memories I guess, of Neela. And what might have been running through her mind at the time of all this. So, I hope you enjoy the best as possible. And I know all to well that this story is way too late and that we are going to be in our 15 season of ER starting next year! That's all, now go and read!

* * *

Going Means Saying Goodbye, Goodbye Means….

"_Going means saying goodbye. Goodbye means…Forgetting." Neela said looking down at her feet.  
She looked back up at Pratt again, pain and suffering were held in those dark eyes. He wasn't the only one who knew it though._  
"_I don't remember his voice, his hands, his face." She muttered._

She couldn't believe it, Michael was actually gone. How could this have happened? Why'd he really have to leave? Was it really worth it? Of course it had, or hadn't?  
--------------------------------  
"_I'm an American solider and I have a duty!" Michael shouted as she stood at the window.  
She turned toward him angrily, a sign of fear in her eyes._  
"_You're a husband too!" She shouted back._  
--------------------------------  
She watched the soldiers, as if in a daze. The guns went off, she flinched along with everyone else. Then again another twenty times it went off. She watched the six of them fold the American Flag as if it were something they had been so used too. She sat there as the General came toward her, kneeled and handed the flag to her. Numbly, she took it into her hands, placing it softly upon her lap.  
--------------------------------  
"_This may sound silly now, but outside in the bay this morning, I was thinking about asking you out." Michael said to her.  
"I was thinking about saying yes." Neela replied.  
-------------------------------  
_Another officer came round the side, holding Michael's metals. The metals of honor Michael had once worn for this country, for this life, for their freedom. The officer too, knelt down and handed it to her. She looked at them, in the glass box case, but she didn't take it though. Then a different pair of hands, not her own with black gloves took the box. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw that Mrs. Gallant had taken it for her, nodding ever so softly to the officer.  
Neela felt as if she could die right then an there. Not go on, just totally fall and never get up. Of course she didn't, she went to Lincoln Park and went to the reception, talking with Mrs. Gallant, about Michael.

"You should have this," Mrs. Gallant said handing Neela the glass box with Michaels metals in it. "He would've wanted you to have it."

Behind her she could overhear a little on Mr. Gallant's conversation with the General and Pratt, but that's when all her emotions went haywire. She strode up to him, fury in her eyes she had gone through enough and this was it.

"How dare you! How dare you say that! Tell them that 'This is a good day to die.'? There wasn't anything that was noble was there?" She shouted up at Mr. Gallant.

Mr. Gallant looked at her in a little bit of shock by her sudden outburst. Even though he stood there and took it all in.

"You could've convinced him to stay! You were his father! He could've stayed because we loved him. Because we loved him." She yelled, even with her eyes pleading.

Pratt then grabbed her softly by the arm, pulling her away as hoping she wouldn't make a scene with her outburst.

"Come on Neela, lets go for a walk." Pratt whispered quietly into her ear.

She turned and left, not half-knowing what she truly was doing. Even through all this, she still couldn't remember Michael. Not even the slightest little thing, where had it all gone to? Where had the love and compassion she once and still had for Michael, left to? This wasn't the women Michael would've wanted, was it? Tears fell to her face as she looked out upon the river. Dark black wavy curls of hair falling a little before chocolate brown eyes, she brushed it softly away with her hand. She looked down at the blurry reflection in the water. Pratt stood near by, probably unsure how to comfort her. She didn't mind though, he was just a bit of moral support nothing more or less.  
She closed her eyes softly, at least trying to remember their wedding night yet, nothing came. She tried so hard to get him back, she never wanted to be at the funeral. Never wanted to go and say goodbye to him forever, but she had to. She was his wife, companion, and friend. Yet, she didn't want to forget him, didn't want to let him go. She could hear the other people's voice and words inside her head.  
--------------------------------  
"**This is what he would've wanted." Pratt reminded her.**  
"**He is his father's son, always has been. Always will." Mrs. Gallant muttered.**  
"…**And as he laid there, he thought 'This is a good day to die.' "Mr. Gallant commented.**  
--------------------------------  
Now all she wanted was to go home, have peace and quiet. Not to think or dream of anything else, except of him. Michael...

* * *

A/N: Not my best work and this was just a full spur of the moment fanfiction I know I have better work somewhere else. 


End file.
